Gyftmas Carol
by WhisperingImagination
Summary: It's not Christmas (or at least, it wasn't when I wrote this), but I don't care. A certain human needs a reminder that it's not a kill or be killed world from the victims of this motto. Christmas carol/Undertale
1. LOVE

**Disclaimer** **: I don't own the plot or the characters, just the crazy idea to mash them together. A couple of songs pop up too, I those belong to their respective owners. The song in this chapter (that has been altered quite a bit) is Scrooge which belongs to Disney/muppets.**

 **Warnings** **: I made some changes. By that, I mean Frisk is (male,) intentionally acting OOC, I killed off a couple of characters and some other stuff. I have a good reason, please don't hurt me. The transition into song is a bit jarring but I really couldn't help myself. Sorry. If there are any** _ **other**_ **problems, please tell me in a CONSTRUCTIVE review.**

 _Knock, knock._

Frisk rolled his eyes, remaining at his desk and continuing to work.

 _Knock, knock._

Alphys looked up uncertainly. When Frisk didn't immediately punish her she dared to ask, "d-do y-you w-wa-want me to o-open t-the d-d-door?" Her constant stuttering made worse by crippling nervousness and her chattering teeth from the cold.

"If you must." He didn't bother to look up.

She slid off her too high stool, and pattered over to the door. She awkwardly grasped at the door handle above her head and it slowly creaked open. A looming shadow filled the doorway. The horned figure stepped forwards...and winced as his horns knocked against the doorway. "Oops, sorry about that," he rumbled, glancing at the now broken wood.

"I-it's okay, Asgore, come in... Ah, F-Frisk! Y-your dad's here!" Alphys called.

He sighed, "yes. I can see that."

Alphys quickly scrambled back to her seat while Asgore approached Frisk on tiptoes to avoid breaking anything else. "How are you today, my child?"

He finally looked up, "What do you want?"

Asgore faltered for a moment-no matter how many times he saw it, it always shocked him to his core that the sweet child he raised had become so cold hearted. "Well, I wa-"

 _Crash!_

"What's up punks!?" A muscular fish monster interrupted him by breaking down the door.

"Undyne! What are you doing heeeeer!" Alphys squealed as Undyne picked her up and swung her around.

"FEAR NOT! FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE ARRIVED!" A living skeleton proclaimed, posing on top of the shambles of the door.

"Hello Papyrus, Undyne." Asgore kindly greeted them.

"Hey, Asogre." Undyne finally set Alphys down, "me and Papyrus were collecting donations for the needy and decided to stop by, since Frisk can probably spare a few coins."

Frisk sniffed, "the real question is: can _you_ spare enough coins to fix my door?"

"Uhhh..." Undyne's grin wavered.

"It's okay, I'll pay for it." Asgore offered.

"Thanks, man!" She happily punched him in the arm.

"It's no problem, besides I was responsible for damaging the doorway. So it's only fair." He patted her on the back.

"HOW CHARITABLE OF YOU!" Papyrus exclaimed. "AND SPEAKING OF CHARITY, COULD ANY OF YOU DONATE A FEW COINS TO THE POOR AND HOMELESS? WE'RE DOING A GYFTMAS FUNDING PROJECT AND IF ANY OF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND AS TO HELP..."

"The poor and homeless?" Frisk snorted. "Worry about yourselves first. You're hardly one step ahead of them."

"And who's fault might that be?" Undyne growled.

"Yours." He scowled at her, "and with that attitude it's no wonder that you can't keep a stable job."

Papyrus quickly jumped in, "THAT'S NOT HER FAULT! PEOPLE JUST DON'T REALLY EMPLOY MONSTERS...SO THAT'S WHY WE'RE HELPING THEM! CARE TO HELP?"

"Of course," Asgore rumbled, handing over a few gold. "It's not much, but I'm afraid I don't have any more on me."

"THANK YOU! A LITTLE GOES A LONG WAY! ANYTHING YOU WOULD LIKE TO ADD FRISK?"

"No."

"What do you mean no?" She asked, "have you SEEN the weather lately? They could _die_ without help!"

"It's kill or be killed." He retorted. "And if you can't live with that, then you'll die too."

"NO, IT'S NOT! IF PEOPLE CARE FOR EACH OTHER, IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE THAT WAY!"

"Humbug!" He snapped.

"It's Gyftmas day for crying out loud!" She shouted, "if there's ever a time for helping other's it's now!"

"That reminds me." Asgore attempted to diffuse the argument. "You are all invited to my Gyftmas party! That includes you, Frisk." He handed all of them all invitations.

"WOWIE!" Papyrus looked at his invite with stars in his eyes, eagerly accepting the diversion Asgore offered. "I WOULD LOVE TO COME!"

"Yeah! We'll come too! Right Alphys?" She glanced over at her wife, but not before sparing a moment to glare at Frisk.

"O-of course!" She beamed. "I-if we can b-bring the kids."

He smiled warmly at her, "of course you can."

"Absolutely not." Frisk snapped, "we have work to do, and you'll not waste a day on such foolish frivolities."

"What?!" Undyne cried in outrage, starting to stomp towards Frisk but was restrained by Asgore.

Papyrus gasped, "I MUST PROTEST! NO ONE KNOWS BETTER THAN ME THAT YOU SHOULD ALWAYS WORK HARD AND NEVER SLACK OFF, BUT EVEN I THINK THAT'S HARSH! YOU NEED TIME OFF TO ENJOY WHAT YOUR HARD WORK BRINGS!"

"I-I know, boss...b-b-but if your attending too i-it wouldn't do much-"

"I'm not going." He cut off her protests with a steely glare. She wilted in her seat.

"Frisk...what happened?" Asgore asked sadly, trying to understand. "You used to love Gyftmas day. Is this because of Chara? I miss them too, and I know you were so close... We've lost so many. Chara, Asriel...Tori..." He drifted off, shadows of pain and memories flickering over his eyes. "It's not the same without them but...do you really think Chara would want you to act like this?"

"Yes." He said, cold and unfeeling.

For a moment the monsters were stunned into silence. "Surely you don't mean-"

"I do."

There was a long pause. What could you possibly say to that?

"...I know what it's like, losing a twin." Papyrus spoke up, speaking quietly for once. "After Sans died... It was terrible. It hurt, and it still hurts. But I couldn't give up, you can't give up! I know it hurts but please don't shut us out! Your dad wants to be there for you, and he needs you to be there for him. And you can do it! I BELIEVE IN YOU!"

Frisk only chuckled. "Do you really think that's why I'm doing this?"

He shifted uncertainly, "YES...?"

"Then you are all idiots." Frisk sneered. Pap flinched back like he slapped him.

"Oi! Who are you calling an idiot?!" Undyne shoved the hurt skeleton behind her. "Papyrus and Asgore just bared their souls to you and then you throw it in their faces like that? Who do you think you are?!"

"You wife's employer." He met her glare with spite in his eyes. "And if you want it to remain that way, I'd suggest you stay out of this."

She bristled but backed down, not wanting to make Alphy's life more difficult.

"So if you would so kindly _leave_ ," he shoved the three of them out the door frame, an impressive feat considering the size difference, "and take your Gyftmas nonsense with you!" He tossed his invitation after them.

"DON'T WORRY, MR. DREEMER, I'M SURE FRISK WILL CHANGE HIS MIND!" Papyrus consoled a dismayed Asgore.

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll come around!" Undyne then muttered under her breath, " _right after Jerry stops being a douche._ "

Having heard her comment anyway, he sunk a little lower. Where had it all gone wrong? Also having heard conversation, due to the busted door, Frisk paused. "One more thing, Father." Hopefully, Asgore looked up. "I expect the payment for the door by tomorrow."

The goat deflated.

"But tomorrow's Gyftmas day!" Undyne protested.

He sneered, "does it look like I care?"

She sneered back and began to stomp over but Asgore and Papyrus were pick to grab her and dragged her away before things could escalate further.

Frisk returned to his desk and Alphys hurriedly followed his example. He phoned the repairman and called him over to fix the door. Then the only sound was the tapping of keys and the howl of the wind. Alphys shivered, it had been cold in the office before but now with the wind and snow coming in it was freezing. The lizard monster pulled her fraying jacket tighter. It wasn't nearly thick enough for the weather, but she couldn't afford any better.

She gently wiped some stray snowflakes off the computer screen and tried to open a new tab. Tried being the key word. The mouse had been glued to the table by the rapidly forming ice.

Her eyes flicked to the fireplace. There wasn't even a fire in there anymore, just some flickering embers. She swallowed. He would be mad if she asked him, but he would be furious if she didn't work.

"Ummm...co-could we u-uh...maybe..." Stars, she wished he wouldn't look at her like that. His gaze was dark, dead and colder than the snow outside. This was a mistake, it was all a mistake. Working Frisk was a mistake, her job was a mistake, her _life_ was a mistake-

"Yes?" He hissed.

"Add another coal to the f-fire?" She blurted out. Seeing he was about to say no she quickly added, "the m-mouse is frozen to th-the desk."

He sighed. "If you must."

"T-thank you..." She slipped over to the coal bucket and grabbed the biggest piece she could see, it would have to last awhile. She added it to the ashes and tried to coax the poor thing back to life.

It was often said that the best way to reach a man was through his stomach. With Frisk, it was gold. Never the cries for mercy or pleads for help, but the jangle of gold that got his attention.

"I-It would save on e-expensive coal for the fire," she went on. "I-if we...ah, didn't go to work tomorrow. I-I mean, we wouldn't g-get much work done anyway: most b-business will be closed..."

"It's a poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every 25 of December." She winced and braced for the rest of the verbal beating. "Very well."

"Wh-really!" She sputtered, gawking at her boss. "Oh thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Get back to work before I can my mind." He said, grimacing at her excitement.

"Yessir!"

The rest of the evening was uneventful, except for when the disgruntled cat monster came in to replace the door. Then another oddity happened: Frisk didn't buy the cheapest door. This was because Asgore was paying (and he would later charge double what it cost) but it was still unusual.

When the day drew to a close and Alphys had scuttled back home, Frisk closed up shop and trudged to his house. When he walked down the path, both monsters and humans alike drew back. Conversations hushed and children hid behind their parents.

Unaffected by his isolation, he continued down the road, breezing past a lemonade stand. The young bunny monster running the stand shivered at the chill. "When a cold wind blows it chills you, chills you to the bone." He whispered.

"But there's nothing in nature that freezes your heart like years of bein' alone," his sister told him, wearily watching the man's retreating back.

Their costumer, an elderly man, nodded, "It paints you with indifference like a lady paints with rouge"

"And the worst of the worst-" she continued.

Her brother jumped in, "-the most hated and cursed-"

"Is the one that we call Frisk!" She finished, the human humming in agreement. He frowned and looked at his cup, "might want to get some more sugar, the lemons seem to have taken a leaf out of his book!"

Frisk continued to tromp through the snow, unhearing and unfeeling, pushing through a group of friends.

The little ink monster shielded back, "Unkind as any-"

"-And the wrath of many-" His wolf friend added.

"-this is Frisk Scrooge Dreammer." Concluded a winged girl as he trudged past Muffet's bakery.

There was a general murmur of, "There goes Mr. Humbug, there goes Mr. Grim," amount the patrons.

Dogamy growled, "If they gave a prize for bein' mean-"

"(-The winner would be him!)" Dogaressa grumbled before giggling: finishing each others sentences! How cute!

"OLd friSKy looVeS hiS MouNey 'CAuse He tiNKs iT geVes HIm pawER." Temmie gave a significant look at Muffet.

She ignored it, adding her two cents, "if he became a flavor, you can bet he would be sour~" She turned to a customer. "Speaking of sour, we have a lemon bars for sale! Made by spiders, for spiders, with spiders! Ahuhuh~"

Across the street, at Grillby's, there was a similar muttering of: "There goes Mr. Skinflint, there goes Mr. Greed."

"The undisputed master of the underhanded deed!" Red bird sneered.

"H-he charges folks a fortune for his dark *hic* and drafty houses" Drunk bunny warbled. "He keeps driving the prices up. My sister *hic*, my sister is struggling...to pay rent and she *urp* she's got kids to feed... He's really trying to make us poor folk live in misa...uh...misery."

"It's even worse for mouses." The little guy sighed, tugging on his striped scarf.

From an ally, a group of teens watched him pass by. A blue rabbit tugged on his sleeve anxiously. "Maybe he's just lonely, he must be so sad." At the incredulous looks friends he squirmed, "I mean, he goes to extremes to convince us he's bad. Perhaps, he's a victim of fear and of pride, look close and there must be a sweet man inside..."

Frisk promptly knocked over a passing lady. "Or not..."

"Sorry mate, but no matter how you cut it, Mr Sneer is still the worst." Burgerpants said, crushing his cigarette underfoot as the gang walked over to help her.

"Yeah, like, he's worse than Jerry!" Catty agreed.

"He has no time for friends or fun." Burgerpants continued.

"His anger makes that clear!" Bratty laughed.

"Don't ask him for a favor cause his nastiness increases." The rabbit helped her up, giving a quick tip.

"Like, not even a crust of bread for those who like, need it." Catty sighed.

"Not unless you pay him, like, an arm and a leg." Bratty said.

Frisk reached his neighbourhood, still somehow deaf to the scorn of his neighbours.

"Oh look, it's Mr. Heartless." A metallic lady with an orange eye commented. "Truly, he is almost as terrible as you. You monster." She ironically called the human next to her.

"That's a compliment really." A monster with stratosphere blue eyes reassured the human. "Though, she could stand to be a bit more consistent. Didn't you call him Mr. Cruel yesterday? Not that he doesn't deserve it, which he does, to be honest. Never giving, only taking, letting his hunger rule and all that. But to be fair at last he isn't discriminatory, treats monsters and humans equally terribly, will give him that."

"If being mean's a way of life he must practice and rehearse." Frogget croaked in the next house.

"Then all that work is payin' off, cause Frisk is getting worse." Whimsum whispered.

Frogget nodded in agreement, "Every day, in every way, Frisk is getting worse!" The duo crouched out of sight as Frisk's glare passed overhead. He unlocked the door to his house.

A soft giggle sounded in his ear. He jumped and whirled around. Just for a moment, he could have sworn that his shadow was grinning back at him. He swallowed, it was just a trick of the light. Probably from one of those infernal Gyftmas trees. "Humbug." He stepped into the house and shut the door with a resounding slam.

Gyftmas was tomorrow, and he was determined to hate every second of it.


	2. Consequences

Frisk would not say he was superstitious. He would often dismiss such nonsense with a, "bah humbug!" But in a world with monsters and magic it never hurt to be too careful. So he left all the lights on when wandering through his house, just to be sure.

"Is little Frisky afraid of the dark? Don't be such a crybaby."

For the second time that day, Frisk jumped and whirled around. There was no one there. It was just the wind, just his imagination. Maybe a cup of tea would soothe his nerves.

He shuffled to the kitchen, flipping on all the lights and checking behind every door as he went. He finally reached the pantry and rooted through the junk. Pasta, beans and cans of who knows what. Chocolate that expired a few months ago. He pulled out a box of Golden Flower tea, Asgore's favourite ( _his_ favourite). Frisk put the box back and pulled out a different one. Earl Grey would do nicely.

"What a waste of perfectly good chocolate."

He knew he heard it that time, and he knew the voice. There was a butchers knife on the kitchen table, _her_ favourite knife. He knew it wasn't there before. He picked it up, to use if needed. It's still kill or be killed, that rule is always the same, even when the others aren't. Especially when the others aren't. He knows that.

He also knows that _she's_ dead.

"So you really were listening." It was hard to tell if the voice was surprised, pleased or disappointed. Maybe all three, not that Frisk really cared. "You idiot, you know I'm a bad influence."

He was ready for it this time, he backed up against the wall so nothing could spring up behind him. "Show yourself." His voice was steady and commanding, betraying nothing.

"As you wish, _partner_." The potted plant on the desk shuddered, then it ruptured, soil splattering the desk as the apparition clawed its way out. Vines clung to its form like shackles, chaining them to the ground. Flowers blossomed like ghoulish grins, their golden sheen making the spirit look terrifyingly beautiful. "Miss me?"

Without a word Frisk put down the knife and went back to making tea like nothing had happened.

"Aw, come on," the apparition teased, "is that any way to treat your long lost twin?"

He ignored it, pouring the scalding hot water into his cup. "Hello?" The ghost hovered over his shoulder, none to pleased with being ignored. "Hey! Listen to me when I'm talking to you!"

It nudged the kettle, splashing the boiling water over Frisk's hand. He couldn't help the cry of pain that escaped him. It's face twisted into a malicious smile, then morphed into one of horror and regret. It drew back, a good ways away from where Frisk was nursing his injured hand.

He finally responded to it's rhetorical question. "You're not my twin."

"Of course I am. Who else would it be?" The ghost spread it's hands, pouting, almost seeming hurt, though the slight smirk betrayed otherwise.

"I don't know what you are but my sister is dead. Ghosts, spirits and other such nonsense don't exist." He quickly added, "ghost monsters don't count."

She drew closer, "oh, so if I were a monster you would be fine with it? Should have sent Asriel then..."

"DON'T bring Asriel into this!" He snapped. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"What am I then?" She smirked.

"A figment of my imagination."

She snorted, leaves rustling with every movement. "Your imagination isn't that good. You can see me, hear me. I bet you can even smell me." She waved her hand in front of his face, the scent from the golden flower on her wrist clogging his nostrils. "Why do you doubt your senses?"

It was true, there was no mistaking the distinctive, overpowering smell of the golden flowers his father loved. Still, he picked up his cup and walked right through her to prove his point, ignoring the chill that swept across his skin as he did so. "The senses can be easily tricked. Your just a bit of...indigestion. A spot of beef or a glob of mustard. Yes," he hissed. "There's more of gravy than of grave about you!"

"More of gravy than of grave?" She giggled, "leave comedy to the skeletons, Frisky bits!"

"Shut up." He snarled, not wanting to bring any more dead people into this.

"Afraid? Who would have thought it, a sinister old miser like you quaking in your boots." She teased, almost looking a bit melancholy.

He sat down in his oversized armchair with a huff. "I am not quaking-"

"Sure..." She rolled her eyes.

"-nor do I have boots." He ignored her. "As for being an old miser...well that's your fault now isn't it?"

The sadness that had been tailing her finally caught up. "I'm sorry."

He startled so bad some of the tea spilt into the saucer. He looked at her with wide eyes, "now I know you're not my sister."

She gave a bark of laughter, "what can I say, death changes things. Certainly gives you a new perspective. Do you know what these are?" She held out her arms.

"Your hands?" He deadpanned.

"No, stupid. The vines. What do they represent?"

"Nothing, because you're a hallucination." He said.

"Were you always this stubborn?" She frowned. He glowered back. "Right, silly question. They're my sins."

"How arbitrary."

"Hardly. See this?" She pulled on a flower, "this one is for forcing you onto my path, turning you into a miserable old miser. And this one," she tugged at a leaf on her ankle. "Is for that time we evicted an entire orphanage! They're all here Frisky, every single money grabbing, filthy, backstabbing moment. Every time, every crime, every lie you told yourself. Every kill, every thrill you got from seeing them suffer. This is my punishment, and if you continue along the path you are now, it'll be yours too."

"Humbug." He whispered.

She laughed bitterly, "still don't believe me? You wear such a chain yourself!"

She grabbed at the air and was suddenly holding a translucent vine. Frisk choked and grabbed at his neck, cutting himself on the thorns. He couldn't breathe! He couldn't move! Karma circled him, trying to drag him back into the earth.

"It's hell, Frisk, and you lit the pyre."

"St-stop!" He rasped. She let go. He gasped for breath, it was gone from his vision but it hadn't left, not really. He could still feel the thorns prickling across his skin, crawling on his back and weighing down his neck. "Fine. I believe you. How do I get rid of it?"

"Get rid of it?" She looked amused, "Do you really think you're above the consequences? That all the harm you've done can just be erased?"

"Why else would you be here?" He asked.

"To see my dear brother?" She laughed at the face he made. "Alright, there is a way. It's rather simple: just be a good person. Though, to be fair, that's easier said than done."

It was his turn to laugh. "Me? A good person? You're right, it's hopeless. I'm irredeemable."

"That's not true," she said, landing next to him. "Even the worst person can change, you could be good if you just tried. Or at least, that's what Papyrus thinks. Asriel did too. And once upon a time, so did you."

"I was an idiot. It's kill or be killed." He repeated the mantra that had been beaten into his head, staring daggers into the tea. The vines circled tighter.

She sighed. "I was wrong, Frisk." He didn't look at her. "Please, you still have a chance to be better." Still nothing. "Just take it!"

Nothing. Her vines became tighter, receding into the ground. She paled, the doctor was getting impatient. "I'm running out of time, you have to listen to me!"

Still no response. She was practically tearing her hair out with frustration.

"Brother, please, just take it!" The ground split open beneath her in anticipation of swallowing her back into the depths of hell. "I'm sorry, alright?!"

He refused. She strained against her shackles.

"Frisk..."

...

"Fine." She choked out. "You know what? You may be stubborn but I'm even more so. You have one last chance. Tonight, you will be haunted by three spirits."

"I've already had enough of that." He stiffly spoke up.

She ignored him for a change, determined to finish her message. "expect the first ghost tonight, when the bell tolls one!"

"Can't I meet them all at once and get it over with?"

"When the bell tolls one!" She screamed as she fell, finally loosing her footing. "CHANGE!"

The ground sealed up behind her. Then everything was as it used to be, except for a cold cup of tea and a badly shaken Frisk.

Yet, despite everything, he was still determined.


	3. Past (child)

He hadn't been able to sleep that night. Despite himself he had remained awake, unable to shake the curling, choking, crawling sensation of the living shackles around him. He had been incapable of escaping the chill of his sisters (hallucinatory) scream. The desperation woven through her words (not real, not his sister), the scent of golden flowers (just the tea not her, not her nothimnotAsriel.) It was all wrong, the guilt, the regret, the pain. (It wasn't her!) That Chara - Chara! - had said she was _wrong_ , that she was _sorry_ , that she still cared enough to try and save him. (It couldn't be. All a lie, he was wrong, _she_ was wrong, that everything - every horrible thing he had ever done- was pointless, needless. Everything was crashing down around him but it wasn't, it was just a dream, just a dream, no no nononoNoNoNONONO!)

It wasn't real! It shouldn't be keeping him up like this, he shouldn't even be thinking about it!

But he was.

...

 _Bong!_

The bell tolled one.

He couldn't help himself. He sat up and looked around the room. Nothing. His large mahogany door was still locked, the pillows were still just so on the sofa and his shirt was still haphazardly slung over the plush back. There were no unusual shadows. Nothing lurked in the bathroom or the closet. Everything was as it was, except for the flower pot he had thrown out earlier that night, which was still missing. That was fine by him. He lay back down, taking care not to hurt his bandaged hands, which he had been ignoring. (He still didn't have an explanation for cutting himself on hallucinatory vines.)

"Humbug." He muttered, curling up under the cheap duvet.

"My child! Such language!"

He leaped to his feet with a shriek, got tangled up in the covers and face planted on the floor. The intruder rushed to his aid, large, white paws helping him to his feet. He smacked them away.

"Don't touch me!" He growled.

"My child...?" The voice asked, hurt laced their words.

He snapped, "firstly, humbug," he ignored the gasp, "is not a swear. Secondly, get out of my room!"

Soft paws reached for him. "...My child..."

"And don't call me that!"

In the shocked silence that followed he finally climbed to his feet and hurled the blankets back on his bed.

"You're right. Your not exactly a child anymore." The spirt smiled gently, still so painfully patient.

It was true yet it was so much more than that. He'd changed. The little child she had known was long gone. She hadn't changed though. No, death had preserved her while adding it's own flavour. (Unlike Chara who had done such a 180 it was hard to believe. Food poisoning does strange things to the brain.)

She was ethereal. Her white fur had always been reflective but now she was literally glowing, a pure white ghostly aura. She was floating above they floor, and her dress and fur drifted like she was underwater. Her manner was elegant and graceful. Queenly. But her smile was still motherly, tender and loving. In life she was an angel and now she truly looked the part.

"Leave me alone." He crawled into bed and tossed the blankets over his head.

Toriel stared. Indignation, hurt and confusion played across her face. She got over it quickly.

Frisk found strong fluffy hands hauling him out of bed. "I'm afraid sleep will have to wait."

"Ironic considering I'm dreaming right now." Frisk mumbled his current excuse.

"We're going back to the Gyftmases of your past." She declared, not hearing him.

"What."

Still not hearing him, she guided him to the window and threw it open. Snow swirled around them in a blinding blizzard.

When it cleared he really did swear.

"Language!"

He was tempted to swear a little more, just to spite her, but the crawling sensation on his back almost convinced him not to. Almost.

" &£%"

"If you keep that up I will wash your mouth with soap."

"Where are we?" He demanded, looking around the unfamiliar room. It was incredibly old fashioned, the sort of Décor used when he was a kid. Frisk wasn't the type to get nostalgic but something about the lighting or the layout pulled at heartstrings he thought had withered away. The purple wallpaper, the many (golden) flowers... On second thought, this room was familiar. Very familiar.

"Don't you remember?"

...Yes. He did. "I might." He said passively.

"And the children? Do you remember them?"

He tuned to find that the room had been occupied before they came in. On the plush couch sat a small child, practically engulfed in pillows yet content to stay and swing their little feet. They were a small, squinty eyed child with a bandage on their cheek and a purple and blue striped sweater. Next to them was another child who resembled a ball of fluffy adorableness, with floppy ears and fuzzy fur. He was also nonplussed about being eaten by the couch and was eagerly talking his friend's ear off. Yes, he remembered them well, though he had tried so very hard to forget.

"...Asriel?" He reached out with a trembling hand to the goat child. It phased right through him, like the child was made of light.

"He can not hear you." Toriel said, watching them with regret. "These are but shadows of things that have been."

"What," he turned to her. "The bloody hell is that supposed to mean."

Her muzzle wrinkled disapprovingly, "language. We're in the past. What you see here has already happened, we can not change or alter the course of time, simply view it."

"Why would you show me this if I can't change it? I've already lived through it, I know what's coming. Leave me be!"

"We must know history or we are doomed to repeat it." Then, so quietly he wasn't sure he had even head it or if she was even the one that spoke, "I'm going to save you."

I don't need saving. He didn't say it, it was just flashing glimpse down a well tread path in his mind that lead to him kicking away anyone who got too close. Just as quietly and quickly and (un)real was the responding prick of thorns.

The door opened to reveal someone who was the mirror image of Toriel, right down to the clothes. Hiding behind her was another child, who was a doppelgänger of the first. Same hair colour, red eyes and haircut. They were a lot thinner than the first, their sweater practically hanging off them.

"Frisk, Asriel?" The other Toriel spoke. "This is Chara."

The two children hopped less then gracefully off the couch and scampered towards them. Chara ducked completely behind other Toriel, their little hands curling into fists. Asriel reached them first, skidding up to their hiding place. The child shuffled around again, desperately trying to keep the larger monster between them and running right into the other human child in the process.

Past Toriel bent down and placed a hand on both their shoulders. "I know you don't remember this, but the both of you are twins." They looked at her, both had clearly been told this multiple times. Chara looked annoyed but Frisk seemed used to the overprotective mother's habits. "Chara is going to be staying with us until they find a more suitable caretaker. So please, be good to her, alright?"

If anything Chara's smile became even more strained. He hadn't noticed that before.

"Uhh...Mom?" Asriel tugged at her dress. "I smell burning."

She sniffed at the air. "Oh my goodness! I completely forgot! I'll be right back."

She rushed out the room. Small Frisk and Asriel shared an amused smile. "Want to bet that was the pie? Hey, Chara, you're going to love... Where did you go?"

They both looked around, in the short span of five seconds the newcomer had completely disappeared. Listening carefully, Asriel pointed behind the couch. They both crept towards it. Chara was curled up behind it, hands clasped over their mouth.

"It's okay," Asriel said. "We're not going to hurt you."

It was only after so many years at Frisk finally recognised her expression. Disbelief.

Ever the believer of actions over words, little Frisk reached down for a hug...and got socked in the face.

SMACK!

Frisk reared back, clutching their chin. "Are you alright?!" Asriel frowned at Chara, "that wasn't very nice."

Back then, Frisk had thought Chara looked angry, now he knew it was a look of fear and determination. However, one thing was clear to both Frisks: she didn't regret it. Not one bit.

There was a gasp from the doorway. "My child!" And in the next instant Toriel was kneeling next to them, inspecting their chin. That was definitely going to bruise. "What happened?"

"They...they tripped." Asriel lied. Chara blinked in surprise.

Frisk nodded and tapped the side table. Toriel glared at the table, which was going to be completely bubble wrapped within a weeks time.

"You shouldn't have lied to me." Ghost mom said.

He shrugged. "Too late now."

"If it was truly too late, I wouldn't be here."

He eyed her suspiciously. "What happened to not changing the past?"

"Who said anything about changing the past?" She chirped.

Jaw tightening, he growled back, "if you think that I can change now, then you're a fool."

"Well," she folded her hands behind her back. "You know what they say about fools."

"It takes one to know one?"

She grinned cheekily, "precisely"

Past Toriel finally stood up after a minute of fussing. "Come along, let's go eat that pie."

"Yes." Present Toriel agreed. "Let's see another Gyftmas."

"Don't bother." Frisk grumbled. "They were all the same. Nothing special."

"That's not what you would have said as a child." It was strange talking to him, someone she knew so well yet so shocking to talk to. Knowing and seeing what he had become, she hadn't thought it would affect her so much yet it was so hurtful, more personal, when those barbs were tailor made to be thrown at her.

"We all say stupid things when we're kids." Easily brushed aside like so much else, excuses and contorted reasoning flowed like water.

"We say stupid things as adults too."

"Like Merry Gyftmas?"

"Like kill or be killed?"

His rebuttal froze in his throat. He mentally rewound the conversation. "When did you hear me say that?"

She smiled sadly. "I was watching. It was difficult at times, yes. But of course I was watching over you. You're my child."

She had seen all of that. All the terrible things he did. The way he treated strangers, friends and family like the dirt on his shoe. Yet she still loved him. He was such a terrible son.

Bah, it didn't matter. What was one more disappointment?

The room dissolved.

Bright trees, the smell of cinabunnies and Snowdin carols. Grateful for the distraction he allowed his face to fall into an annoyed frown. "I told you not to bother. Nothing changed."

"A lot changed over time."

As the years blurred together, more changed than stayed the same. Toriel, Asgore, Asriel, Frisk and, to everyone's surprise, Chara were permanent fixtures around the house. However, other foster kids of various ages came and went for various reasons. The trio played cowboys and Indians with a boy in a cowboy hat, charades with a girl in a tutu and hide and seek with one in a light blue bow. Another child helped Toriel cook, while yet another challenged Asgore to an armwrestling match. The last curled up on the couch with a good book.

The children came and went, or didn't in the trio's case. The biggest change was Chara, who slowly warmed up and was soon singing and hugging just as freely as the rest of them. Strangely enough, they began to look like Frisk and Frisk began to look like them until they were almost interchangeable.

That was something he remembered very well. Not because of how annoying it was to be constantly confused for each other because, for the most part, that didn't happen. After giving up on telling them apart, most just started to refer to the duo as a single entity rather than try to guess who was who. In fact, he remembered it so well not because he didn't like it, but because he did. They. Them. Frisk had vastly preferred it over he/him or she/her. Something about it just...sounded right.

It had never gone anywhere, he had never told anyone besides Chara who, despite feeling the same way, had told him to keep it a secret. Whatever. It didn't matter. It was just a phase. (At least, that's what he told himself in spite of the continuous urge to smile whenever someone used those pronouns.)

They watched the memories unfurl, people and objects fading in and out of the scene like dissolving sugar. Feasts, banter, laughter and goodwill.

Then it stopped.

They were in past Frisk's room. They were older now, and theoretically wiser. Little Frisk wasn't doing much, just sitting on the bed, staring at the wall.

There was't any holly on the walls or lights around the room. No scrumptious aromas drifting under the door or carols lacing the air. Just them staring in silence.

"You skipped one." He noted.

"You must think me silly and weak but..." Her eyes were misty. "I don't think I could bear to face it again."

"I'm glad you did." He said, quietly.

The door opened. Chara walked in and sat next to them. They were mirror images of each other, an almost perfect reflection. "That idiot."

Frisk's head jerked up, they blinked in shock.

"He could have fought back. Why didn't he fight back?" Frisk reached up to pat her shoulders, she pushed him away. "He could have beaten him! You saw his training, he could have beat him! What was he training for if not this?"

Frisk swallowed, fidgeting nervously, trying to explained that Asriel had tried to talk him down, make him see reason...

"There's no reasoning with these sorts of people! They're too blinded by their own bigotry to listen. Every moment you spend trying to spare them is another they'll use to take you down."

As Chara's voice lowered, the voices outside raised. "You would leave them now? When they need us most?"

 _(We were so happy. So very happy. A night out, to celebrate the Gyftmas spirit. We had ventured out, gone exploring.)_

"We can't keep them! It's too dangerous! What if..."

 _(Then_ he _came. We didn't see him coming, or know what he was doing with a gun, in a park. Perhaps he had been waiting for us.)_

"We'll be there next time."

 _("Step away from the monster. I'll protect you.")_

"Next time?! The fact there could even be a next time is completely unacceptable."

 _("Don't worry, sir. They're my siblings, I'm not going to let anyone hurt them.")_

"We can't give up now Tori, what kind of message would that send?"

 _("You're those monsters' spawn, aren't you? Well, tell your parents this: you animals aren't fit to raise human children. You know nothing of LOVE or humanity. I know what you're doing, poisoning their minds. Bringing war and death is what your kind does.")_

"I don't care what kind of message it would send, I want my children safe!"

 _("That's not true! I love my parents and my siblings, all of them! We monsters want nothing more than peace and love for all. ...Please, put the gun down. Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I don't know what we did to upset you, but let me show you we're not like that.")_

"We can keep them safe and we will keep them safe."

 _("Let's be friends.")_

"Listen to me, Asgore Dreemer, you are being selfish, irresponsible..." Her rant faded away, along with their footsteps.

 _(Dust.)_

"Were we...always that loud?" Ghost Toriel said, her hands over her mouth as if that would muffle the skirmish outside.

"Yes."

She pulled him into a hug. "I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have had to listen to that."

He pushed her away, "so you'd rather lie then?"

Heartbroken, she drifted back. "Even them..." Chara whispered. "That's all there is to it, Frisk. Everyone's either cruel or a fool and you..." She turned to him, realisation compounded by determination. Burned by her gaze, Frisk leaned back, suddenly very afraid. "You have to promise me something."

Hands clutched their shoulders, bolting Frisk in place. "If anyone ever tries to hurt you, you'll fight back. I don't care who they are or why their doing it. You have fight back."

The same pairs of ruby red eyes gazed into each other. One hardened and unforgiving, the other soft and loving. "Promise me you'll fight back."

"...I will." Small and quiet, yet resolute.

"Good." Their grip eased. "I'm just trying to protect you. You know that right?"

They nodded.

"Alright..."

The blizzard swept up again, and although he didn't remember it happening, a quiet "thank you" was heard among the wind.

💧︎69 ❖︎ ︎M


	4. Past (adult)

This time they weren't at home at all but in a hotel, if you could call it that, they don't even give you a mint on the pillow or anything. He would know, he had his first job there and it was his constant nagging about expenses that put a stop to the complementary sweets.

"MTT™ resort! What are we doing here?"

Dazzling MTT™ brand Gyftmas lights, blaring MTT™ Gyftmas carols, the aroma of MTT™ glitter turkey. Tourists and fans wandering around, decked out in MTT™ merchandise sold by salespeople wearing pained and phoney smiles, smelling of smoke. Golden statues of the robot himself™ eternally posed on both wheels and fabulous legs™.

God, it was obnoxious.

"Recognise anyone?" She asked.

Sure enough, an older Chara and Frisk could be seen across the counter. Young adults now, working their first job. They had changed a fair bit in their teen years, finally growing apart in looks. Frisk had cut his hair short and Chara had grown hers longer. She had started to wear makeup, and her already rosy cheeks were now a starling shade of red. Frisk had repeatedly told her how unnatural and hideous it looked, but she had stubbornly refused to change it and kept the look until her eventual death.

Young Frisk waved goodbye to a customer and promptly got dope slapped. "What was that?" Chara hissed. "You practically gave that away for free! We're a business, not a charity!"

He whimpered out a pitiful excuse. "Not our problem. You're going to get us fired if you keep this up!"

Frisk pointed out that only he would get fired, Chara would keep her job. "I would quit then, no point in sticking around this dumpster if you aren't here."

"AWW, THAT'S SO SWEET!" Pappy piped up, having just finished with his own customer.

"Shut it!"

"SHUTTING UP!" He agreed.

"already? but i just got here." The two of them jumped a mile but Pappy just looked mildly annoyed.

"NO SANS, WE CLOSE AT FIVE, SO WE STILL HAVE AN HOUR." He clarified, wilfully ignoring the joke. "AND I HAVE TOLD YOU THAT YOU HAVE TO BE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTER BEFORE I CAN SERVE YOU." He picked Sans up and lifted him over the counter and gently set him on the other side.

"do you serve skeletons here?" He asked, pretty chill about the transportation.

Papyrus narrowed his eyes, wary about the pun that was almost certainly about to be said. Young Frisk, ever oblivious, obligingly said the line: "we serve anyone."

"great," he said, catching Pappy's arm. "i'll take this one."

Pappy was torn about wether he should act flattered or annoyed. Eventually flattery won out. Little Frisk smiled at the heartwarming scene while Chara rolled her eyes. Toriel wore an identical smile and while old Frisk's neural expression didn't shift, his eyes were a little shinier than before.

"so," sans said, dropping Pappy's arm and letting the moment pass, "whatcha got?"

"WE HAVE A SPECIAL SALE ON GYFTMAS DECORATIONS." He told his brother.

Sans nodded thoughtfully, picking up a pink, sparkly MTT™ brand wreath. "how much is this?"

Frisk told him it was 5g. Sans looked at Papyrus, "how much for me?"

"5G." A confused Pappy repeated.

"i'm your brother."

"TEN g." Chara snatched the wreath™ out of his hands and put it back on the shelf. Sans laughed and made a few nepotism jokes.

The conversation continued in a normal vein, until Chara reminded them they weren't supposed to talk to Sans unless he bought something. He then haggled Chara back down to 5g to buy the wreath™.

"It's odd." Old Frisk remarked. "Seeing them like that."

"Has it really changed so much?"

"Yes. Sans and Chara are dead, for a start."

She sighed, "you have grown so cheerful, my child."

He shrugged, "its true."

"SO," Pappy asked, as Frisk waved goodbye to another customer, "IF YOU GUYS AREN'T DOING ANYTHING, WOULD YOU LIKE TO COME TO MY GYFTMAS PARTY? IT'S NEXT WEEK SO IT DOSEN'T INTERFERE WITH FAMILY CHRISTMAS TRADITIONS."

Chara's face iced over. "No."

Frisk politely explained that they didn't celebrate Gyftmas.

"HANUKKAH THEN?"

"We don't celebrate anything." Chara snapped, slamming the till shut.

"WELL, EVEN IF YOU DON'T, MAYBE-"

"I said no!" She snarled.

Frisk winced, "it's a bit of a bad time for us..."

Sans placed a hand on Pappy's arm, but didn't take his eyes off the two humans. "hey, if they don't wanna come, they don't wanna come." His eye lights flickered out. "i'm sure they'll make it to the next one."

They came back on and he turned to Papyrus, "oh wow, look at that, time to go already." And herded him out the door.

"OH, UM," Pappy turned and waved, "BYE-BYE! SEE YOU TOMORROW!"

"in a place like this it's more like buy-buy our stuff™"

"SANS!"

Frisk sighed and slumped onto the counter, absentmindedly fiddling with their sleeves. Chara gave an identical sigh and assumed moody teen position: leaning backwards with arms folded. "Are you mad at me for saying no?"

Frisk shrugged.

"That's not an answer."

They sighed again, "...you didn't need to be so mean to Pappy."

"He wouldn't take a hint."

"He was just trying to be friendly."

"Well he's pretty crap at it then."

Frisk pushed away from the counter, "don't say that!"

"It's true."

"It's not!"

"Good god, can we skip this?" Older Frisk groaned. "This is so cringeworthy."

"No." Toriel gave a mischievous smile.

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Tisk," Chara pulled out a lollypop. "You're too soft."

Frisk slumped back over the counter, "Pappy wouldn't hurt me."

"Not everyone's Pappy."

There was a long stretch of silence. Well, not silence. MTT™ covers of Gyftmas carols™ were still playing on the speakers, but that didn't count. The store was mostly empty, everyone was home for the holidays, spending time with family and friends and all that mushy stuff. Frisk and Chara, on the other hand, would rather be anywhere else but home. That was why they had agreed to cover most of today's shifts.

"If you really want to go, just tell Pappy tomorrow. He'll be ecstatic you changed your mind." She twirled the stick between her fingers. It had taken a fair bit of convincing on Frisk part, cherry picking facts and "did you know sugar is more addictive than heroin?" But now Chara believed, or at least pretend to believe, that candy was as cool as drugs. On paper at least. So now she smoked lollipops instead of cigarettes. Brush-your-teeth reminders went up by 40% but hey, they weren't grounded.

Frisk shook his head, "no, I don't want to go. I just wish you weren't so mean about it. You hurt his feelings."

"One of us has to have a spine."

"I do too have a spine."

Chara laughed, "sure, whatever you say Frisky bits."

~o~

"You're jumping around a lot." Frisk glanced at Toriel and was surprised to see her so grim looking.

"He's getting impatient."

"Who?"

"Don't worry about it." She smiled and attempted to pat his head, he smacked her hand away. Her strained smile dropped entirely. "Keep watching."

The smell of concrete dust and plaster was pervasive, accompanied by overtones of paint fumes. A sure sign of a building under construction, or at least renovations.

"Kinda small isn't it." Chara commented.

Frisk, who was now a young adult, rolled his eyes, "sorry it does not live up to your majesties standards, but we are on a budget. Someday, when we're rich but not famous, I'll get you the mansion you so desire."

She snorted. "I'm not asking for a mansion, I'm asking for some elbow space!" She held out her arms so a palm touched each wall.

"Well, you'll just have to make do." He strode over to his desk at the back of the room (which was five paces from where he was standing, and six paces from the door) and set down the stack of paperwork he was holding.

"I'm just saying." She leaned against her own desk (about the size of a one seater school desk, in a public school that was really trying to stretch out the budget). "I've seen closets bigger than this. Please tell me there's secretly another few rooms that you're going to surprise me with."

He raised an eyebrow, "yes, that's exactly what's going to happen. Also, the Easter jackalope is real, Pelvis Estly is alive and lives on the moon and the illuminati is always watching." He sat down, "Of corse not, don't be daft. Do you see any extra doors? You went over the floor plan with me. You saw the budget. Heck you've even been here before! And what reason would I have for-"

"Alright, I get it!" She threw up her hands (one of them smacked into the wall,) "Geez. It's not a sin to hope you know."

"Sorry." He sighed, "I guess the stress is getting to me."

Chara shrugged. "It's fine. Lord knows how many times I snapped at you for wanting silly things."

He hummed, leafing through the papers.

"I was so excited for this." Older Frisk said, "I know I don't look it, but that's because I was really stressed too. It needed to be perfect. Well, not perfect, but close enough."

"You succeeded." Toriel folded her hands in front of her. "Your business is booming now."

"I guess. Looking back, I can see I made quite a few mistakes." He glanced at his sister. "Keeping Chara on was one of them. Don't get me wrong, she was a good employee and I don't think I was ever as good at striking terror in the hearts of interns as she was but..." he pulled at the hem of his nightshirt. "I wonder if she would have been happier away from the company. In military or something. I could see her driving a tank. Or a police car or, I don't know an airplane maybe. I believe that, secretly, she hated the office. Damn good at her job though."

Younger Frisk sighed. "Do you think..."

"What? That it's kinda small? Yes, yes it is."

"No! I mean, yes it is a little small but that's not what I'm talking about."

She pointed at him, "so you admit it."

"Would you stop?!" He threw his hands up, "I was just wondering if...!"

"What?"

He paused for a moment, hands thrown out, eyes tight and scrunched, then relaxed, sliding into his chair. "Never mind. It was a dumb thought anyway."

Concerned, Chara walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, you have to tell me now."

"Nah," he said, "I was just doing what you were doing. Wanting things that will never happen."

Snow.

"What were you thinking?" Toriel asked.

"How the hell am I supposed to know? That was years ago!" It had been, even then. It seems that habits are hard to break. Even now he still sometimes catches himself wondering what Asriel would have thought.

~o~

It was his current office, much larger than the previous one. Back when it was still clean and new, before he had stoped cutting corners and started sniping out entire sections.

When his indoor heating still worked.

The door jangled, outside was dark and snowy. Santa weather, if you were the kind of person to believe such nonsense. In stepped Chara, wearing a lovey new dress, ruby red and tight fitting, cut in the latest fashion.

"I do hope it was worth it." Past Frisk said. An adult now, the only difference between them now was that this one had more hair.

"Excuse me?" She walked over to her new desk, high heels clacking.

"You're not excused." He said, "what are doing, walking in an hour late?"

"It's not like I would have gotten any work done anyway. There's no one to do business with, it's a holiday. Let me enjoy it."

"You have grown lax."

"You have grown into an uptight killjoy." She crossed her arms.

"And lazy."

She raised an eyebrow, "is this about the dress?"

"You went way over budget!" He threw up his hands.

"A) it was not 'way over budget', it was only twenty dollars. B) We don't need a budget anymore! The business is doing great and we have plenty saved up. I'm allowed to splurge a little, it's not going to kill you."

"It could. The money we have saved up is for emergencies! Not dresses!"

"One time! I just wanted to treat myself once. Is that so wrong?"

"Yes."

"No! We have enough saved up for three emergencies each with so much spare we could throw a party in Vegas. You work me like a dog for years and I'm not even allowed to enjoy my reward? I don't want to live in poverty and I don't need to."

Frisk took a deep breath. "You greatly exaggerate both our wealth and working conditions. Can't you trust me when I say we don't have enough? I just need more time-"

"You always need more time!" She stood up, eyes flaring, "It's never enough for you! You could have towers of gold- nay, mountains of gold, all the the money and gold in the world and you would still be unhappy!"

"Oh, because you don't have any personality flaws, huh? If you were in charge we would be out on the streets by now-"

"At least we'd be happy." She grumbled.

"We _are_ happy."

"Money doesn't make you happy, frisky bits." She gave him a knowing look and picked up her cigar. (Out from under their parents grasp she had stopped playing along years ago.)

"Does too." He muttered, mostly to himself, sinking into his seat.

"Anyway, I'm leaving. I'll be back by supper."

"What?" He sat up, "you only just got here."

"No point in staying, there's no work to do-"

"There is always work to do."

"-and I'm not hanging around when your in such a foul mood." She continued on as if he hadn't spoken.

"I'm the one in the foul mood?" He asked, incredulously.

"Yep."

"At least I'm doing my job!" He yelled after her as the door slammed shut. "This is coming out of your pay check!"

He slumped back, massaging his temples. "Bloody Gyftmas."

The world went white.

"Wow. That was pointless. That wasn't even a big argument, we had plenty like it and they never changed anything."

She smiled, "only two left. Do be patient."

~o~

"Goat mom's dead." Chara said, staring at the open envelope on the table that had been sitting there for some time now.

"I know."

"Car accident. Some idiot drunk."

"I know."

"We've been invited to the funeral."

"I am aware."

Chara waited for a few seconds before extinguishing her cigarette and turning to Frisk. "Are we going?"

He stared at the dying fireplace. "...No."

"She raised us." It was more of a fact than an argument. She said it more out of the habit of playing devil's advocate (or angle's advocate in this case) than any real desire to attend.

"I don't want to."

"Why not?" Both Chara and Toriel asked at the same time.

He pulled the blanket around him closer. "I hate funerals."

"All the people there." Old Frisk continued, practically spitting the words out. "The crying and the moping. Acting all sad and weepy. Acting like they knew them. They weren't there!"

Carefully, Toriel placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He laughed bitterly. "Don't be sad for me. Be sad for yourself. All those children you cared for, and not one of them showed up."

"What about..."

"I checked, later. Isabell was out of country on tour. Her manager wouldn't let her leave. Brian was hospitalised at the time, after starting his first bar fight in years. Justin was killed years ago in a shoot out."

"Yes, I know."

For a moment he saw his own pain reflected in her eyes. His hand twitched, instinctively wanting to comfort her. The moment passed, and he continued on. "Due to the post's incompetence Paula wasn't informed until a month after. Paige came in late and missed the services, she paid her respects later."

"What about Kay?"

"Still missing."

She gave the tiniest nodded, biting her lip anxiously. "Was he ever...?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Ah..."

"If it helps any, he's probably dead."

She gave a laugh that was half sniffle, half snort. "It does not, but thank you for trying."

"You know who was there?" He asked.

She shook her head.

"Asgore."

She froze, then looked up, fire in her eyes. "Don't talk to me about that man."

His face twisted into a bitter mockery of a smile. "Ironic isn't it? Out of all the people you loved, only the one you hated showed up."

She stepped back. "Don't turn this on me, I'm only trying to help you."

"Because you think you know better than everyone else."

"I don't-"

"Because we are too ignorant to make it on our own, is that it?" He seethed.

"I'm so sorry." The strange voice rattled around his head. "Your sister..."

He turned around. He hadn't even noticed the scene change.

"She has passed on. I'm so sorry." The nervous doctor repeated to last years Frisk.

"She was asking for you." Toriel whispered, her voice dangerously low. "They called until you unplugged the phone."

"I..."

"You wouldn't take time of work to visit her. Not even on her deathbed."

"Someone had to keep the business running!" He defended himself. The words rang hollow, even to his own ears. "I was already giving her paid time off so she could go to the hospital, what more did you want?"

"Ironic isn't it. That _he_ was the only person to come to her funeral. The father who hadn't seen her in years, not the brother who saw her everyday."

"Get out." Growled both Frisks.

"Because he cared more about money than his own sister."

"SHUT UP!" He struck her, a long cut across her torso.

She fell to her knees, shocked and wide eyed. "You- ...you really hate me? That much? Ha... ha... No. It is my fault. I failed you as a mother. I'm so sorry."

"Mom... I..." He didn't mean it do that. The words stuck in his throat. He dropped to his knees in front of her, hands hovering awkwardly in the air. To what? Close the gash? The damage had been done.

"My child." Her hands curled around his own. "Please. You can do better than this. I know... I know it has been difficult. You have lost so much. But that just means you have to hold tighter to the people you have left. Just... Be good, alright?" She pressed her forehead to his. "I love you."

Dust. Dust everywhere, filling his eyes, nose and mouth. The air was sick with dust and death and it was his fault and he couldn't breathe-!

He clawed his way out of the the strangle hold of his bedsheets.

It was just a dream. Just a dream. He was trembling and slick with sweat.

Drip. Drip.

What? No, he wasn't crying. He had something in his eyes. He didn't cry. He hadn't cried since... since his brother died. He hadn't cried when his mom died, and he hadn't cried when Chara died.

He was DETERMINED not to give in now.

.- ... .- - / .- / -.-. .-. -.- -... .- -... -.-

Merry Christmas


End file.
